The March of Man
by Dima02
Summary: In 1943, dauntless scientists and sailors, commanded by none other than Albert Einstein, conducted the most ambitious scientific experiment of all time. It went disastrously wrong. But few realized that it was affecting the Earth 140 million years earlier...
1. Prologue

**Prologue and Background Info**  
><strong><em>"<em>****_The purpose of studying the new sciences is simple... We want to learn to understand war through the most powerful means available... to encompass the ideas contained in quantum mechanics, nonlinear systems, and chaos and complexity theories." _****~LtGen Paul K. Van Riper**

Devised in desperation, developed in the darkness, and designed to deliver deadly devastation to dastardly enemies, secret weapons of both Axis and Allied nations were unleashed in frantic attacks trying to turn the tide of World War II. From Japanese Kaiten suicide submarines to Nazi Me163 rocket-powered interceptors, these secret weapons successfully delivered deadly payload—and fear—into the heart of their enemies.

The Axis powers were famous for their secret weapons programs. The Allied powers, however, were not to be outdone. The atom bomb, the pinnacle of secret Allied technology, was—and still is—one of the most powerful weapons on Earth. However, unknown to most people, the Allies had another—even more striking—weapon up their sleeve. They had the ability not only to make ships and men invisible, but travel freely in time and space. Even today, details about this power are still shrouded in mystery, and the American military is still silent. Despite this, some facts are known. Below is a reconstruction of what happened.

Reconstruction:

It was World War II, and the world was in flames. In the Pacific, the US and Imperial Japan were fighting a long and bloody island-hopping campaign. In Europe, demagogues Hitler and Mussolini rained terror and tyranny over the land. In the North Atlantic, German U-boats were wrecking havoc on Allied shipping. The new innovations on these U-boats, including acoustic homing torpedoes and radar, only added to the devastation.

American conveys were a lifeline for the Allied powers in Europe, delivering men, goods, and weapons during their hour of need. However, the merchant fleets were slow, clumsy, and often made up of outdated and frail ships. The warships protecting them always seemed to be a step behind German subs. A U-boat could easily out-maneuver a destroyer, slip into the convoy, and destroy a helpless target. In 1942 alone, more than 1,000 Allied ships were torpedoed and sunk.

To help combat the enemy subs, the US Navy developed a more maneuverable type of warship, called a destroyer-escort. It was an anti-submarine vessel that traded speed for agility. Quick to build and well-suited to escorting conveys, destroyer escorts proved to be highly efficacious against Nazi U-boats.

However, the new ship was not the only thing in the works. There were plans giving these ships the ultimate advantage over enemy subs—invisibility to radar and magnetism. The project was called "Project Rainbow". It was the brainchild of none other than Albert Einstein.

Einstein, in fact, worked for the Navy at the time. Officially, he worked on conventional weapons like mines and torpedoes. However, this was only a cover-up for his real project, the quest for invisibility, codenamed Project Rainbow. Theoretically, Einstein's work could make ships invisible to radar and magnetic mines, but it had never been tested before in a practical environment. The US Navy, having learned about the new theory, was overjoyed and issued the order for such an experiment.

The experiment would be later named "The Philadelphia Experiment." The test took place on the USS Eldridge (DE-173). In October 28, 1943, in Philadelphia Naval Yard, the experiment was sent to go forward. Wrapped around the decks of the _Eldridge _were massive field coils that could produce high electromagnetic fields.

The US Navy used a variation of Einstein's unified field theory. The theory aimed to describe mathematically and physically the interrelated nature of the forces that comprise electromagnetic radiation and gravity. The variation used by the Navy suggested that when an object satisfies the requirement of a strong electromagnetism and gravity, a strong electromagnetic field could be formed. The field, at least in theory, could direct electromagnetic radiation around an object. This would make everything inside the field invisible to radar waves and magnetic mines. However, due to the scattered nature of light waves, optical invisibility was not expected.

They would get much more then they bargained for.

At 5:15 p.m., the generators powering the coils were activated. What happened next was chilling.

According to reports, when the experiment was initiated, a grayish-green fog enveloped the ship. As the fog dissipated, not only was the fog gone, but the ship also disappeared from sight. Neither radar nor the human eye could observe it. Not only did the ship accomplish radar invisibility, but also optical invisibility.

Shocked, the scientists gave the order to turn the experiment off. The ship began to reappear in the stygian grayish-green fog it disappeared in.

But then, something even more bizarre happened.

As the ship reappeared, there was a bright flash of light. The ship disappeared again and simultaneously reappeared in a naval yard in Norfolk, Virginia—300 miles away. She was spotted by many other vessels, including the Liberty ship, SS _Andrew Furuseth_. Their crewmen, including deckhand Carlos Allende, were stunned as they looked on in amazement.

After a few moments, the ship dematerialized in Norfolk and reappeared in Philadelphia in the same eerie fog she disappeared in. The ship had just accomplished teleportation, something else that the experiment was never designed to achieve.

As it turned out, the electromagnetic field generated was far stronger than expected. It was strong enough to bend light. Even Einstein himself was astonished by the achievement, but even the smartest brains in science couldn't explain the teleportation right away. It would take months for them to find an answer.

Observers were electrified, but their excitement soon turned to horror. The incredible power of the electromagnetic fields had wrecked havoc on the crew. Many were found dead, despite the fact that the ship was unscathed. For the survivors, there were horrible aftereffects. Men were driven insane. Men were scalded by heat. Men reportedly went invisible. The problem was that the unprotected human body could not take exposure to such high electromagnetic fields.

Many men were institutionalized, while being falsely classified as "missing in action." Others were forced into signing secrecy papers with the Navy. It has never released the truth. Records, including the ship's logs and crew diaries, were falsified. The Office of Naval Research classified all the records of the experiment. The Navy destroyed all records of the story.

Despite the horrible aftereffect, in November 1943, the US Navy chooses to continue the tests. The promise of invisibility and teleportation was just too much to ignore. This time, the test was done in a secret location in utmost secrecy. This is where our story begins.

Sources:

watch?v=ChjyCR8V2Bg

watch?v=MtQBT15DX34&feature=related

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Disclaimer: The _Land Before Time_ characters are owned by Universal Studios. All other characters in this fanfiction, with the exception of the crew of Flight 19, are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The names, incidents, dialogue and opinions expressed are products of the author's imagination and are not to be construed as real. Nothing should be interpreted as expressing or representing the views of the U.S. Navy or any other department or agency of any government body. **I am neither a conspiracy theorist nor a believer of Project Rainbow.**


	2. The Storm

**Chapter 1: The Storm**

"_**Equipped with his five senses, man explores the universe around him and calls the adventure Science." **_**~Edwin Powell Hubble, The Nature of Science, 1954**

_**The Florida Strait, November 12, 1943 A.D.**_

_**US Navy Motor Torpedo Boat PT-148, Elco 80' PT boat**_

More than one hundred miles off the sandy shores of Miami, a huge storm was brewing in the Atlantic Ocean. Although technically not yet a hurricane, it could have easily been mistaken as one by someone without seafaring experience. Waves were seven feet tall, and winds were blowing northwards at 43 knots. Visibility was poor, and the weather was a worthy advisory for all but the most experienced sailors. While most boats tried to get out while they could, a line of six Elco 80' PT boats did just the opposite. Riding the waves, they sailed into the storm at 21 knots. Maintaining such high speed in such bad weather was no easy task, and the three 1350-h.p. engines on every boat roared in protest as they fought the relentless waves of the furious ocean.

With only six people onboard every boat, compared to the normal eleven, the PT boats were lacking ballast and remarkably unstable. The crushing waves sprayed water across the deck of these small vessels, sometimes submerging the entire bow under a curtain of mist. The pumps had to be turned on in order to pump out the water assaulting the boats from both the ocean and sky. The 51-ton boats rolled like rubber ducks in bathwater. However, they still doggedly continued their east-southeast course heading of 103° through the Florida Strait.

Onboard the first boat in line, the _PT-148_, Ensign Robert Cleve stood defiantly at the open helm while he was ruthlessly attacked by the elements. He scanned the horizon for his objective, but he was unable to spot it. Unlike his counterparts onboard the other five PT boats, Cleve was not an experienced seaman or observer. With hardly any experiences at sea, the 21-year-old ensign was not ready for the rough seas that confronted him that day. With every wave, the brand-new 80' Elco PT boat sprayed salty water in his face and raincoat. _It is a tribute to her builders that the tiny boat was able to stay intact in such heavy seas_, Cleve thought to himself. He had heard jokes that the PT in PT boat stood for "Plenty Tough", and his boat had just proved itself to be more than worthy of the nickname.

For Cleve, the Elco 80' PT boat was truly an amazing craft. Only a mere decade ago, these vessels didn't even exist, not even on paper. When Cleve first enlisted in the Navy, he was unsure of her capability. At only 80' long, she was only a little more than the length of seven jeeps placed bumper-to-bumper. She also only had a beam of less than 21 feet, and Cleve had serious doubts about the stability, seaworthiness, and safety of the vessel. However, the moment he stood at the helm of one, all his worries disappeared. She cut through the water like a knife through butter, and the wind felt good in Cleve's face. The control layout was perfect. The helm was sturdy, and the throttle controls were easily accessible with his left hand. The instrument panel and controls were placed right in front of him, exactly where he wanted. The torpedo panel was also easily within reach, just a little to his right. The view from the helm was unrestricted, and the boat had unmatched maneuverability and speed. These boats could only be described as "half-bird, half-fish" and having enough dynamite to sink a battleship and the speed to get away. She was a sturdy boat, her bulkheads substantial and her riggings strong. She had self-sealing fuel tanks and plenty of built-in buoyancy. She was a Spartan machine when you look down the unembellished deck, under all the armament. Her single purpose was to inflict heavy damage on the enemy, and it was no question that she served that purpose well. It was no wonder that the Japanese called them "devil boats."

The Elco 80' PT boat was a beautiful boat as well. For Cleve, it was impossible not to fall in love with the sharp lifted bow, the long descending chime hull, and the bulbous flare of the gunnels. Cleve also admired her beautiful lines running from stem to stern. There was class all over her. Cleve could see it in the outer shape, and he knew that she was built with infinite care. It was a proud and purposeful boat. Not only could he see it, he could feel it and hear it. The dulcet sound of her twelve-cylinder engines was a symphony to his ears, and her sturdy helm never failed to assure Cleve of his safety.

The story of the PT boat was equally as magnificent. They were an honor to the Navy. They could turn on a dime, lean into a curve, and jump the waves like a jackrabbit. They've fought out of Tulagi, at Guadalcanal, and at Sicily; they fought on the shores of New Guinea and dirty weather of the Aleutians. They helped guard the Panama Canal. They were the little boats they can tackle anything that floats. They represent the newest combat weapons produced by the war, designed to meet and destroy the enemy where he could be found, be it on or under the sea, on the land, or in the air. The PT boat and her crew had done just that, from barge to battleship, and from submarines to airplanes. Cleve was proud to serve on her, and so were the rest of the crew. The Elco 80' PT boat was the little boat that could.

Despite often disparaged for her small size, the officers' quarters of the PT boat was nearly nineteen feet long! Cleve was really surprised by the fact that there were actually two toilets and sinks onboard the vessel, and there was plenty of commodious storage space. His only complaint was the lack of good food on longer missions. Although she had a refrigerator, it was puny and incapable of storing foods such as milk and eggs. The only foods available on long patrols were dry sandwiches, spam, beans, and Vienna sausage. The cook, officially the quartermaster, was terrible at cooking. At the frontlines, the crews of PT boats were often at the end of the supply chain. He has heard tales about PT boat crews having to beg or fish for food. At every meal onboard a boat, Cleve would dream about the apple pie and steak his girlfriend made. _Speaking of food, a coke could really help right now_, thought Cleve as he daydreamt about a cool, refreshing glass bottle of coca-cola.

"Well, Cleve, we're approaching our destination. How are you doing up there?" Lieutenant Fred Ruffy interrupted in his booming voice as he poked his head out of the cabin entrance. Over the deafening noise of the ocean, the storm, and thunder, Cleve could barely hear the voice, but it was enough to shock him back into reality. Cleve was the only man on the deck, with the rest of the men inside the snug engine room, dayroom, or charthouse of the boat. Ruffy put on his raincoat and approached the helm. The bouncing and rolling motion made even such a short walk difficult, and the wet deck only made situation worse. Only with great difficulty did the 31-year-old lieutenant reach the helm of the ship.

"I can hardly see," Cleve stated in a concerned voice, "and the storm is taking a turn for the worst."

"Perfect cover for our secret mission, no? Besides, you call this a storm?" Ruffy asked incredulously, clearly amused by the new officer.

Before Cleve could answer, a flash of lightning appeared in the sky. The thunder was heard by Cleve merely three seconds later. He quickly did some calculations to find the distance from the lightning. _That was only a little more than a half mile away. And this guy here isn't the least frightened. _

"Indeed, Ruffy." Cleve said, somewhat annoyed. For the hundredth time, Cleve was reminded of the fact that he was _the_ new guy. He grew up on a farm in Iowa, and the ocean seemed a place of wonder and awe. _That's the reason I joined the Navy in the first place, _Cleve thought. However, he never realized how trivial his knowledge of seafaring was. He only got his sea legs a mere month ago, and he only learned celestial navigation during specialty training. He excelled at things like aircraft identification, gunnery, radar operations, and diving, but it did not make up for his lacking in general knowledge about the sea. Because of this, instead of being sent to the front lines in the Pacific, he was assigned to defensive and testing duties in the US. Still, his incompetence in oceangoing knowledge and experience made him the laughing stock amongst his colleagues. However, Cleve's docile and amenable personality normally led him to accept the criticism and admit his shortcomings.

Ruffy, on the other hand, was a different man. Experienced, hard-working, and calm-under-fire, he was the ideal officer in the Navy. He was a feared, yet congenial man. Being a superior of Cleve and the skipper of the PT boat, he was also a good and reliable friend. Also, unlike Cleve, he grew up in Miami, right near the port. His father was a merchant, and he went out to sea as early as age seven. He joined the Navy before the Pearl Harbor attack, and he was a seasoned veteran. Ruffy served as a role model who Cleve tried to emulate. Firm and friendly were two words that best described him, and his personality won him great respect with the rest of his crew.

"Lower the speed, Cleve" Ruffy ordered. "We should be close to our objective." Cleve pulled back the three throttle sticks with his left hand. The responsive 51-ton PT boat slowly coasted to a leisurely ten knots as the needles of the three RPM indicators dropped. The roar of the three Packard V12 engines died down as the bow lowered itself into the waves, filling Cleve's ears with the sound of thunder and the waves of the Atlantic Ocean. Ruffy immediately took out a pair of binoculars and scanned the horizon to look for their objective.

"You see it?" Cleve inquired, "I can't see a thing through this weather."

"No, not yet. Give me a second!" responded Cleve, "You want me to check the radar…"

"There she is. What a beauty!" Ruffy interrupted as pointed towards a dark gray figure about a half mile north of his location. In perfect conditions, such a large object could easily be seen clearly from the PT boat from up to thirteen miles. However, due to the poor visibility, the objective only manifested itself at the distance of three mere miles.

Cleve turned and also spotted the grey figure, but it took him nearly a minute to pick up the shape of an American Cannon class destroyer escort. Its gray color blended in nearly perfectly with the gray sky. Only its ghostly silhouette gave away its shape and location. If he hadn't been told to look in that direction, he probably would have sailed right past the 300-foot vessel. Despite being the length of a football field, the "tin can" bounced up and down in the water like the PT boats, rolling form side to side. _Looks like that her crew isn't better off either_, Cleve thought as he chuckled to himself.

Cleve had never seen the destroyer escort, the _USS Eldridge_, before. Nor did he want to. All he knew was that he was supposed to rendezvous with the _Eldrige _at 1400 hours, on November 8, 1943, at (25°20'59" N, 78°24'50" W), where Ruffy would give further orders. That was just a little more than 110 miles east-southeast of Miami, about 15 miles west-northwest of the closest land—Andros Island. The nearest town was even further away. The location was close to the British territorial waters of the Bahamas, but it technically was still international waters. They were not close to any shipping lane or airway that he knew of. With the weather hampering most smaller vessels, there was only a flyspeck chance that they would be seen. This was good news, because the mission was supposed to be top-secret.

The mission was so secret that as of yesterday afternoon, Cleve hadn't even heard of the _USS_ _Eldridge_, Project Rainbow, or even the Philadelphia Experiment. He was only briefed on his mission only seven hours ago, and he even had to sign secrecy papers. When the commander told the sailors about the mission, the room immediately became tense; his commander did nothing to relieve the cryptic atmosphere.

Another flash of lightning quickly ended Cleve's flashback. It zipped across the sky before hitting the water. The PT-boat was made out of wood, and lighting strikes could cause catastrophic fires and damage to his vessel. He decided to ask Ruffy for further instructions.

"What now Ruffy?" Cleve asked inquisitively. Even up to this point, he still had no idea what to do. Suspense and ebullience filled Cleve's body as he turned to Ruffy for an answer.

"Bring us closer. I'll tell you what to do next," Ruffy responded a hint of worry in his voice. Cleve has never seen his friend so worried, and he knew that this wasn't a good sign. His friend, who was joking with him only a mere minute earlier, has completely changed faces.

"What are you nervous about?" Cleve asked.

"Nothing," Ruffy responded in an angry tone "just dock destroyer, ensign."

Ruffy had never called him "ensign" before, typically, he called him by his first name. Ruffy was not acting normally. Cleve knew that something was bothering the lieutenant, but he didn't dare ask again.

_**Naturalist Basin, Utah, April 20, 140,001,943 B.C. (Before the events of the Land Before Time: Journey through the Mists)**_

_**The Land of Mists**_

Nearly 140 million years ago, the Earth was a different, yet similar place. Much like today, all kinds of creatures roamed the Earth, and it was rife with life. Some of these creatures found comfort, some found hardship, but most extraordinarily, some found companions.

Nowhere was this more true than an area we now know as Northeastern Utah, in the United States of America. Even over the course of 140 million years, the geography of the region has changed extraordinarily little. The Great Valley, known today as Ashley Valley, is still a cloister of lush trees and green grass. The air is still filled with the laughter of children playing in the grass, and it still resembles a true paradise on Earth. If Littlefoot and his friends can visit the valley today, they would surely be able to recognize it.

The northern parts of the valley have gone through a more drastic change than the other parts. The valley today considerably is smaller than what it was 140 million years ago, with Buckskin Hills now filling up the northern portion of the valley. The most drastic change is probably the water. A long time ago, the lakes we now know as Steinaker Reservoir and Red Fleet Reservoir were connected to each other. At the current location of Red Fleet Dam, Thundering Falls once stood. Water from Thundering Falls flowed eleven miles south to meet up with another river, one we now know as Green River, before flowing further south into the distance. However, the river that flowed from Thundering Falls to Green River, the one that has been delivering water to the valley for hundreds of years, has largely dried up. Only two small creeks named Brush Creek and Ashley Creek remains today, but they're still worthy memorabilias to the great river that once flowed through the valley.

The valley is still home to many different creatures, and quite a few can trace their lineage to Skip, Milo, Lydia, Plower, and the colony of underground mammals that Spike once fell in. The stories of the dinosaurs will live on in the stories that were passed down from millions of generations earlier. The dinosaurs are as active in their memories just as they were 140 million years ago. For the humans in the valley, they still get to enjoy the tracks and fossils that these mighty creatures made.

The northern parts contained the most of the waterways. This part of the valley, receiving the largest amount of water, was also the lushest and loveliest. It was the location of Littlefoot's nesting place and the Cave of Many Voices. However, this lovely landscape can not be seen anymore. The relentless movement of Earth's crust caused an earthquake that pushed this land upwards. The lush vegetation and waterways have disappeared due to these changes, leaving behind only a barren mountain that looks nothing like it did 140 million years ago.

As for the mountains protecting the Great Valley, very little has changed. Even millions of years of corrosion have somehow failed to abate these titanic mountains. Made of solid quartzite, shale, and slate, these magnificent mountains, formed in the Paleozoic Era, still stand tall and defiantly today. And for thousands of years, these mountains, rising 600 feet, have protected the inhabitants of the valley from outside invaders. In fact, Ashley Valley would not be discovered until 1776 and would not be thoroughly explored until the arrival of General W.H. Ashley in the 19th century.

The southern, western, and eastern parts, in comparison, have changed very little. The eastern parts were more fertile and green then they are today, but changes in the southern and western parts are negligible. The place where Littlefoot and his friends first entered the Great Valley can still be visited. Today, this entrance is near Split Mountain, and some lucky hikers today still get the chance to enjoy the same view that Littlefoot and his friends did more than 140 million years ago.

The fossilized remains of the original Sharptooth can still be found in the buried under the waters of the Green River, just waiting to be found by the paleontologists who prowl this region. Hanging Rock, Black Rock, and Ruby's Thinking Place have—extraordinary—remained almost unchanged. The Secret Caverns, known today as the Big Bush Creek Cave, is now the second-largest cave in Utah. Deeper parts of the cave are off-limits due to obstacles like logs and rocks, but deep inside, the Cave of Many Voices still remains. Whereas shouts of joy once echoed through its corridors, now, there's only a deathly silence.

Littlefoot and his friends lived in the early Cretaceous period. The Big Water, which is now known as Mowry Sea, is no longer existent. However, many legacies live on. Littlefoot's birthplace, near Dodge City, Kansas, although not marked by any structure, can still be visited. The canyon that separated the families in the Great Earthshake can still be seen in Colorado. After the lava cooled, a river, known today as the Cucharas River, cut its way through that canyon. Some parts of the canyon have withered away, but the half-mile wide and 400 feet deep gap that separated Littlefoot and his friends from their parents can still be seen near a place called Cedarwood, Colorado. Today, Littlefoot's bold and epic 880 mile journey to the Great Valley has been shortened to just 690 miles. Their epic journey will be covered more in the next chapter.

The "neck" of Saurus Rock collapsed in an earthquake, but the base still stands today. By some almost divine coincidence, this is the current location of the National Dinosaur Monument. Doc would have been proud…

Less than 35 miles north of the Great Valley, across many mountains and forests, was the location of the Land of Mists. Located near a town we now know as Dutch John, the Land of Mists has gone through a more noticeable change. The mists have disappeared, and the Night Flower, along with many of its dangerous residents, are now gone. The Mowry Sea, the predecessor to the Western Interior Seaway, was only a few miles from the Land of Mists, but neither the sea nor the seaway exists today. The swamps and ponds have been replaced by the Flaming Gorge reservoir. The trees once there now are now replaced the Ashley National Forest. The only things that have remained unchanged are the mountains surrounding this land.

In this same location more than 140 million years ago, a hungry ichthyornis (sharpbeak), an early carnivorous bird, prepared for landing. It spread out its wings and landed softly on the back of a deinosuchus (bellydragger), an early crocodile.

"Ichy, is that you?" Dil, the deinosuchus, yelled, "You have better found some food, or else I'm leaving you forever!"

"Calm down, Dil!" Ichy, the ichthyornis replied, "I'm sure that we'll find something to eat… eventually. Did you find anything?"

"Ichy, you know how bad my eyes are. You'd better find some food fast. Or else we're all gonna starve! Now go up there and find us some food!"

"I know, Dil, I know." Ichy replied impatiently as he flapped his wings and took off into the bright and sunny sky. The white feathers on the front of his wings shone brightly against the midday sun. However, couldn't marvel at this sight. All he cared about was food, and it wasn't exactly plentiful.

Ever since the longnecks moved out of the land, food sources have been low. Finding food, even from the sky, was no easy task. With the large longnecks gone, the only prey was the rare lost far-walker. Having one arrive in the land was infrequent, to say at best, and actually finding one was a matter of extreme fortuity. Other sources of food, such as fish, have either been depleted or driven away. Sighting prey from the sky was arduous and inefficient, but in order to search a large area of ground, it was the only option.

_Only if I had something to help me see the ground, this would be so much easier, _Ichy thought. Little did he know, his wish would become true.

_**The Florida Strait, November 12, 1943 A.D.**_

_**US Navy Motor Torpedo Boat PT-148, Elco 80' PT boat**_

The _PT-148_ sailed closer and closer to the _USS Eldridge_, and the five other PT boats did the same. Two of the crewmen onboard the _PT-148 _came out of the dayroom to look at the destroyer escort. The identification code, _DE 173, _was painted proudly on her bow. Under Ruffy's orders, the PT-boat approached the starboard bow of the destroyer. With VHF radio, he also gave orders to the other five boats. The weather badly hampered the approach and forced Cleve to approach more slowly and cautiously. As Cleve guided the boat to dock with the _Eldridge_, he tried to catch a glimpse of the crewmen inside the bridge. The windows on the bridge were quite small, and his angle prevented him from actually seeing anyone inside the bridge. It was a disappointment, but his attention soon turned to the main guns.

For all his life, he wanted to shoot the three-inch gun found on these vessels. He had seen pictures of them when he was just a little kid. Those things had a range of nearly 15000 yards and a rate of fire of nearly 20 rounds a minute. He had learned about the effectiveness of these guns during specialty training, and it was one of Cleve's personal favorites. He scanned the forward deck of the destroyer-escort for the guns. It was only then that noticed something peculiar about the forward deck. Something wasn't right…

"Look at the forward deck," Cleve exclaimed, "What are those things?"

Wrapped around the ship's forward deck, four large objects took up the space where a gun was supposed to be. Despite having never served on a destroyer, he knew the proper layout of one. He learned during specialty training that a Cannon class destroyer escort like the _Eldridge _was supposed to have three single Mk.22 3"/50 caliber guns. Two were to be located at the bow, and one was supposed to be located between the stern and the amidships. However, one of the guns on the front was missing. The four objects that stood in its place aren't like anything that Cleve has ever seen. There were two big cylinders that nearly took up the entire width of the bow. In front of it were two smaller, flatter cylinders. At first, Cleve thought that they were storage tanks, but he soon realized that the two smaller tanks were too small. _Besides, why would they need extra storage space?_ He thought_, if they need extra fuel or food, the Navy would just send along a tender or munitions ship. No need to replace a gun with storage tanks. But if they're not storage tanks, they what are they?_

"That's classified," Ruffy responded in a stern voice. "You mission is to dock with the _USS Eldridge_ and help take her crew off her. Do not ask any further questions. Understood?"

Cleve nodded in fear and shock as he brought the PT boat alongside the destroyer. He had never seen his friend act in such a harsh manner. His humor was gone, and he wore a worried look. All of a sudden, Cleve developed a presentiment feeling the pit of his stomach that something was wrong. Once again, he dared not ask any further questions.

_**Linwood, Utah, April 20, 140,001,943 B.C.**_

_**The Mysterious Beyond**_

Ichy has been in the air for an entire hour, and his body ached with every flap of his wing. So far, he had encountered no prey, none at all. His stomach protested in pain, along with his wings. To distract himself from the abject situation, he drifted off into a daydream about a small finned swimmer. It would leap out of the one of the ponds, with its scales glistening under the morning light. He would swoop down from the sky and catch it in his beak. Yes, it would have a delightful taste, a taste that he would never tire of—a taste that he associated with his childhood.

And yes, the memories of childhood. How wonderful they were. The days near the Big Water, the good days, the days that he played with his siblings, preyed happily on finned swimmers, and slept safely in his nest at night. Ah yes, and his first finned swimmer, how could he ever forget? It had been a gift from his mother, a very special gift indeed. It was his favorite, and he would do anything to gain back his childhood. The laughter that he used to share with his friends and siblings, the stories that his mother would tell, and memories of hunting by the Big Water filled Ichy's head. Overcame with nostalgia, he began to sing in a soft voice, one that most would never associate with him.

_When the sun went down  
>And everyone was sleeping<br>If I heard a sound  
>Like things around me creeping<br>She would wrap her wings around me  
>And tell me "Don't be scared"<br>And I knew that I was safe because  
>She's always there<em>

In a way akin to a sleep story, Ichy soon woke up in reality. The pain in his gut and wings could no longer be ignored. _Those happy days are over, long over, _Ichy thought to himself. An earthshake had destroyed his home, killing his entire family. All sorts of predators moved in, forcing him to move out. But right now, that wasn't important. He needed to find a spot to rest. With no other option available, he spread out his wings and landed at the edge of a small creek. It was too small to home any finned swimmers, but the water would abate his thirst. He nearly collapsed from exhaustion, but he somehow managed to reach the edge of the water. The deep, cool water was just what he needed. He stuck his beak into the water and drank until he was full. Afterwards, he took a small nap at the edge of the water. He was still hungry, and he knew that Dil would punish him for returning late, but all that was behind him. He leaned against a rock near the edge and settled into a comfortable afternoon nap. With the warm sun and memories once again alive in his mind, he felt like that he was home again, in his mother's care and love.

_**The Florida Strait, November 12, 1943 A.D.**_

_**US Navy Motor Torpedo Boat PT-148, Elco 80' PT boat**_

Nearly two hours after the _PT-148_ docked alongside the _USS Eldridge_, her skeleton crew was finally beginning to disembark the ship. Nine of them boarded the _PT-148. _The boat was now holding 15 people. The maximum number of people the boat could accommodate was 17. With no torpedoes or gunners onboard however, the men all comfortably fit in the cabin of the boat. Meanwhile, Cleve and some others voluntarily helped out with operations onboard the _Eldridge._

Although Ruffy emphatically told him to not ask any questions, curiosity got the best of Cleve. While moving around boxes on the wet and slippery deck, Cleve, also known for his rhetorical skills, successfully managed to inveigle information form a drunken ensign onboard the vessel. He told Cleve that the two large cylinders were electrical generators while the two smaller cylinders were field coils. When Cleve asked him what they were for, he simply responded: "I have no idea."

Cleve knew from physics class in high school what the coils were meant to achieve. When the field coils are activated, they will generate a large electromagnetic field. This was used in degaussing operations where electromagnetic coils would be installed into the hulls of ships. The British used this to counter Nazi magnetic mines, and it was already commonplace. Based on the info he coaxed out of the ensign, it seemed ostensible that this was just simply a degaussing operation. Cleve breathed a sigh of relief, but he soon found two problems to his theory.

First, the field coils were way too big. The field coils and generators used on other ships were small enough to be fitted inside the hull. But the ones on the _Eldridge _took up nearly half the forward deck. The big coils will be able to produce higher electromagnetic fields, and higher electromagnetic fields means a less likelihood of detection by magnetic mines. Still, the smaller, typical coils were highly effective, and trading a gun for oversized coils didn't exactly make sense.

Secondly, if this was just some degaussing operation, there was no reason for it to be so secretive. Nearly all British cruisers and battleships had them, and the Nazis were already developing countermeasures. It was no secret that the Allies were trying to degauss their warships. Most degaussing operations were done right in the harbor and are even known to civilians. Also, most degaussing operations were conducted with crew onboard. Doing a degaussing operation in total secrecy did not seem necessary whatsoever.

Cleve began to doubt his theory, but he couldn't think of any other explanation. _All I have to do is wait and see,_ he thought.

Regardless, orders were orders. They were already behind schedule. With nothing else to do, he descended the ladder and into his PT boat. The rain made this a difficult task. He almost slipped and fell down the ladder, but he regained grip at the very last second. When he got down, Ruffy was already waiting for him.

"Careful there, Cleve," Ruffy said, "We only have half an hour till the experiment. It's time to cast off."

"Experiment? What experiment?" Cleve asked.

"Never mind. I'll tell you later. Right now, we have to cast off."

Cleve nodded in agreement. The tiny bit of information that Ruffy leaked was of no use whatsoever. He already predicted that there was going to be an experiment, but he needed to know what the experiment was trying to test. _Just wait, _Cleve thought.

As skipper, Ruffy ordered the lines cast off and singled the engineer for power. In another moment, they were headed back out to sea. Cleve was once again back at the helm, doing his favorite job in the world. By this time, the visibility and waves were starting to improve, although the storm was still raging like a mad bull.

"Travel south for a mile," Ruffy ordered, "This should take us to a safe distance. I'll radio the other PT boats. Be extremely careful, because the experiment could be dangerous."

"Is that what has been bothering you?" Cleve inquired.

"Yes, Cleve," Ruffy said as he sighed deeply as he scratched his head, "the _PT-147_ will be staying behind in case anything goes wrong. Her crew is equipped with protection suits, and we're not. Still…"

"You're worried about the possible consequences of this experiment?" Cleve interrupted.

"Yes"

"Don't worry. What can possibly go wrong?" Cleve asked. He tried to sound care-free, and he hoped that his voice didn't give away how nervous he actually was. Contrary to what Ruffy believed, Cleve actually knew what the objects on the front deck were. He had a bad feeling all day, and he was just as nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room of rocking chairs. Fortunately, Ruffy did not notice.

"A lot of things," Ruffy replied with condor, "Once again, the experiment is extremely dangerous. What we're about to test is nothing short of revolutionary. It potentially holds to key to winning the war."

Cleve gulped. At this point, he abandoned his "degaussing" theory altogether. Although valuable, degaussing has already been done and was of little importance now. He wondered what this experiment was about. He just had to ask.

"Can you please tell me what the experiment is about?" Cleve entreated.

"You'll see," Ruffy responded, "but for right now, I want you to go monitor the radar in the charthouse. Tell me when the radar detects anything approaching. I will take the helm. I'll exonerate you when the experiment starts. You'll get a chance to watch." Ruffy turned and tried to smile.

"Yes sir!" Cleve responded with alacrity. Ruffy had a habit of taking things as they come along, and Cleve's ebullience was being driven sky-high. However, Cleve was forbearing. He walked towards the stern and then descended down the hatch leading to the dayroom. Inside, the crew of the _Eldridge _was playing a round of poker. Cleve still had ten dollars in his pocket, but he decided against using it. He took off his raincoat and headed for the charthouse.

Starting in 1942, Elco began to equip their PT boats, including the PT-148, with Raytheon SO radar. The antennas were mounted on the foredeck, and the display was mounted in the charthouse. The radar had a range of 17 nautical miles, and it was a sublime piece of equipment. It gave the boats a decisive advantage attacking enemy shipping at night, and it also gave the boats warning about incoming enemy aircraft, which were rarely detected before unleashing their bombs or guns.

Cleve took off his raincoat and grabbed a seat in front of the display. Due to the poor weather, only the _Eldridge_, the closest PT boat, and Andros Island could be seen on the radar. The other boats were too small and far away to be picked up. The weather was badly degrading the performance of the radar, but all large approaching vessels should be able to be detected. If one was to be detected, they would have to abandon the experiment and restart it again elsewhere; such were the orders his commanders gave that morning. However, larger ships tend to follow shipping lanes, and smaller boats probably would not be crazy enough to set sail in such bad weather. The chance that they would be seen was truly Lilliputian. However, Cleve still had to monitor the radar. He stretched out his legs and leaned back in his chair. Once again, all he needed do was to wait.


	3. The Fog

**Chapter 2: The Fog**

"_**Science does not know**____**its debt to imagination." ~Ralph Waldo Emerson**_

_**Linwood, Utah, April 20, 140,001,943 B.C.**_

_**The Mysterious Beyond**_

A ruffle in a nearby bush was enough to shock Ichy awake. He could hear braches cracking and see the bush shaking.

"Who's there?" Ichy demanded. The only response Ichy got was more shaking and noise in the bush. Despite excruciating sores and his grievous lack of energy, Ichy decided to hightail it.

He jumped up into the air and flapped his wings, but his quick action would be in vain. Ichy, for all his brilliant efforts, has exhausted all his energy. He only remained airborne for two seconds before his sore left wing went numb and quit. He lost control and spiraled counter-clockwise before hitting the ground at ten miles per hour. The force of the impact severely hurt Ichy's right wing and legs, and sent Ichy tumbling head-first into a crescent-shaped rock formation.

Almost as if this wasn't bad enough, a huge bellydragger appeared out of the bush. With the notable exception of Dil, all bellydraggers were fearsome predators. Normally, Ichy would just fly away, but with both of his wings badly impaired, flying was no longer an option. The bellydragger seemed to sense this and approached his helpless prey. Ichy tried to run away, but he quickly lost his balance and collapsed again. The big bellydragger slowly approached him and opened his jaws. Ichy could see its sharp teeth and gleaming eyes. Trapped by the rock formation, Ichy had no way out. He could only watch as the bellydragger slowly approached him.

_**The Florida Strait, November 12, 1943 A.D.**_

_**US Navy Motor Torpedo Boat PT-148, Elco 80' PT boat**_

The experiment was finally starting. Cleve and Ruffy were watching from the top deck. Ruffy sent another crewman, Alford, to monitor the radar and exonerated Cleve. Although the charthouse had two deadlight windows, the view was badly obstructed by the life raft and ready boxes. Cleve was enraptured that he could finally satisfy his curiosity.

Both officers, Cleve and Ruffy, were busy observing the _Eldridge._ Ruffy was standing at the helm, and Cleve stood in the .50 cal gun turret to the right of the helm. Four enlisted crewmen also climbed onto the deck. Three of them gathered near the fantail while one of them kneeled by a torpedo tube on the port side. Both officers were using binoculars. However, in lieu of the standard Navy binoculars, Cleve was using a lighter and more compact civilian model. A few days ago, Cleve dropped and broke the binoculars issued by the Navy, and replacements were nearly impossible to get. Instead, he just bought a civilian one.

Cleve's location allowed a great view of the starboard side of the destroyer escort. Through the binoculars, Cleve could see the _PT-147_ bobbing alongside the _Eldridge_. He could also see someone in a bulky white outfit moving around the bow of the _Eldridge_. Things were going as planned.

"When is the experiment starting?" Cleve asked inquisitively as he moved his binoculars away from his face.

"They're starting right now," Ruffy responded with excitement, "Look!"

Cleve quickly glanced through his binoculars as crewmen raced to the port side of the boat. They too wanted to watch the experiment. The boat leaned to port, but it wasn't enough to discourage anyone from watching.

Cleve could see smoke coming out of the two field coils on the front of the vessel. The color of the smoke was not like anything that Cleve had ever seen. It had a deep stygian green color that seemed to be enveloping the entire ship. Instead of being dispersed in the air or being blown away by the wind, it began to rapidly surround the ship's hull, like a magnet being attracted to an iron.

"That's a really impressive smoke screen," a sailor commented.

"Yeah, with these new screens, the enemy will never see us. How do they get the fog to stick like that?" asked another.

Ruffy responded, "It's not just a smoke screen."

"What's that fog supposed to do then?" Cleve asked.

"Well," Ruffy said, "I suppose that there's no harm in telling you now. The commander apprised me after you guys left the room. The ship is supposed to turn invisible and…"

"Wait," Cleve yelped, "What?" Five sets of eyes trained on Ruffy. The lieutenant didn't like all the attention, but his face didn't change at all. He kept staring through his binoculars and acted like nothing has happened.

When he finally spoke, Ruffy asked: "You've all heard of Albert Einstein, right?" Cleve and the other crewmen nodded. Ruffy soon continued: "He came up with this theory that states that when an object has gravity and a magnetic field, it can turn invisible to radar. However, in previous experiments, the ship has been able to gain optic invisibility and teleport."

The boat was as silent as a church. The only sounds were the waves and rain droplets hitting the boat. Everyone stared at Ruffy with disbelief on his face. Cleve didn't believe it, but Ruffy was always veracious. The lieutenant, an old man who kept the Bible close to him at all times, has never lied to him before. Albeit doubtfully, Cleve submitted to Ruffy's story.

Ruffy was the one who broke the uncomfortable silence. He pointed in the direction of the _Eldridge_ and exclaimed: "Look! The fog has covered the entire ship now!"

Almost instantly, all eyes trained on the _Eldridge_. Even with his binoculars, Cleve could no longer see the _Eldridge _or the _PT-147_. Everything was enveloped in a stygian green cloud. Oddly, Cleve thought that he saw some sparks and elfin flashes of lightning inside. The whole cloud seemed to be charged and filled with energy. Everyone watched in anticipation.

Then, it happened.

A huge flash of lightning raced across the sky and entered the stygian cloud. Instead of hitting the mast, the lightning struck the _Eldridge _right at the generator at the bow. Nearly one billion volts of electricity rushed into the field coils. The intensity of the electromagnetic field suddenly surges, and what happened next will puzzle scientists for decades to come.

According to Albert Einstein, who took months to work out the results of the experiment, the sudden surge the electromagnetic field, combined with gravity, had managed to break off and from its own space-time continuum.

With a thunderous "bang" and a bright white flash of light, the electromagnetic field and the generators surged. The blanket of green fog surrounding the ship suddenly expanded outwards, racing towards the surrounding PT boats. Cleve dropped the binoculars, quickly covered his eyes with his arm, and ducked in the "armored" turret. In truth, the turret was only made of ¾ inch plywood, but that was enough to shield him from the light and the force of the expanding fog. When the light died down and everything returned to normal, Cleve was the first one to get up and open his eyes.

The first thing Cleve did was to check himself for any injuries he might have sustained. He saw none. He dusted himself off and looked around the boat for any injured crew members. He also saw none. Fortunately, everyone managed to cover his eyes in time to avoid the blinding flash. The expanding fog managed to span the mile-long distance between the _Eldridge _and the _PT-148_ in less than nine seconds. Visibility decreased to around fifty feet. There was no telling whether if other boats suffered any damage.

Ruffy was quick to grasp the seriousness of the situation. "Quit standing around!" Ruffy ordered, "Cleve, turn on the search lights. Everyone else, get back inside."

Without thinking, Cleve ran to the search light near the helm and turned it on. Ruffy started shouting orders to the charthouse with the pilot tube.

"Alford," Ruffy demanded, "the experiment on the _Eldridge _exploded. Can you establish radio contact with the other boats?"

"Negative sir," responded Alford, "I think our antenna got damaged. All I can hear is a bunch of static."

"Cleve," Ruffy commanded, turning to Cleve "man the helm. Bring us to the _Eldridge _at full speed. We need to check on her ourselves."

Cleve ran to the helm and pushed the throttle forward. The undamaged engines roared into action. Half a minute later, they were dashed across the ocean at 30 knots. The engines and transmission were doing fine. Somewhat relived by a lack of damage on his own boat, Cleve turned his attention to the _Eldridge_. Amidst the confusion, Cleve could not find his binoculars, but fortunately, the _Eldridge _was visible without any visual aid_. _The stygian green fog that surrounded her was gone. Her bow was a mess. The two generators were blasted to pieces, and what remained was producing thick grey smoke. However, Cleve was not too worried. The damage was limited to the bow of the boat, and the crew should be fine. The rain would allay any fires onboard, and there seemed to be no critical damage to the hull. It seemed no worse than a hit from a 3 inch shell. However, as Cleve shifted his gaze towards the center of the _Eldridge_, his expression turned aghast.

The _PT-147_, just like Cleve's binoculars, has vanished.

_**Linwood, Utah, April 20, 140,001,943 B.C.**_

_**The Mysterious Beyond**_

The bellydragger took its time to approach Ichy, but Ichy had no ways of escape. The crash has badly injured his wings, and there was no way that he could fully climb over the rock formation. However, with his last morsels of strength, he managed to climb a little higher on the rock formation. It was this action that would save him.

Unknown to Ichy, Cleve's experiment 140 million years latter triggered a huge rip in the time-space continuum, causing a major time vortex to form. Because of specific factors such as location, the intensity of the magnetic field, mass of the objects involved, and time, the time vortex linked Cleve's experiment in the Florida Strait with the lake in Linwood, Utah. With a bright flash of light, the two times and locations connected. The following exchange would change both time periods forever.

The force of the vortex not only sucked in the _PT_-_147_ but also many random objects nearby, including Cleve's binoculars and a few fishes. The vortex spontaneously transports all the boat these objects to the lake in Utah, dumping them near the edge of the lake.

With a loud bang and a superfluity of smoke, the _PT-147_ was thrown at the shore of the lake, only yards away from Ichy. More than 51 tons of wood and steel crashed into the shore, cutting off the bellydragger's path to Ichy. Ichy did not notice, because closed his eyes to protect himself from the smoke. Unfortunately, there was nothing he could do about the intoxicating fumes. Ichy coughed and gaged, but it did no good. _This is the end of me_, Ichy thought with self-pity, _Chocking to death on this green fog. Not from a natural cause like sickness and earthquakes, not from a hungry belleydragger, not from starvation… no, I just have to die from chocking on this fog. If I'm gonna die, can't I at least be with my family? Please, at least Dil?_ _No…_ The last thing Ichy remembered seeing before fainting was the smiling face of his mother looking down at him. He knew it was just a hallucination, but he smiled. _At least I'll still have good memories, _he thought, _At least I can die a happy sharpbeak._

_**The Florida Strait, November 12, 1943 A.D.**_

_**US Navy Motor Torpedo Boat PT-148, Elco 80' PT boat**_

"Are you sure we should get this close?" Cleve asked with vexation, "We don't have any protection against the radiation."

The _PT-148_ was getting close to the _Eldridge_. Cleve would see the faces of the worried workers on the ship, but he knew too well that the harmful radiation could kill anyone who wasn't dressed properly. The workers on the _Eldridge _had special suits, but the _PT-148_ did not have any.

"You got a point," Ruffy stated, "Get out the megaphone then. We still need to keep our distance."

Cleve pulled the throttle back and the responsive boat coasted to a stop. The waves were getting milder, and the rain was slowly abating. Cleve took out the megaphone from a cabinet under the helm and handed it to Ruffy. The training manual suggested that he always keep a megaphone handy, because radio messages can sometimes broadcast farther than they are supposed to and be picked up by the enemy.

"This is the _PT-148_," Ruffy shouted through the megaphone, "Do you need help with firefighting? Was anyone injured?"

"The fires are out," Someone onboard yelled back, "And thankfully, no one was injured. Don't come any closer. The radiation is still too high." The sound was loud and clear, despite the roar of the relentless waves.

"What happened to _PT-147_? Did it sink?" Cleve and Ruffy both knew that the boat did not sink. PT boats were made out of wood, and the boats were lightly loaded. There was no way for a PT boat to sink in such a short period of time. Cleve heard about a PT boat, the _PT-109, _that stayed afloat 12 hours after being sliced in half by a Japanese destroyer. Plus, there was absolutely no debris or oil slick.

"We lost track of it during the explosion," the man on the _Eldridge _replied, "Thankfully, no one was onboard. Should we send a diver down there to look for her? The water here isn't very deep—only 40 feet."

"Cleve, get your diving suit on," Ruffy said to Cleve, "You're going underwater." Every PT boat carried a hard diving suit. The Navy believed that every boat should have one, just in case quick repairs had to be made in enemy territory. All of the officers and crew were trained in diving, although Cleve found it to be a largely useless, but fun, task.

Cleve typically enjoyed diving, but not in such bad weather conditions. Below the surface of the ocean, the water is usually fairly calm, although the Florida Strait had a strong current. It was supposed to be just a quick dive, so Cleve did not complain. He walked back into the interior and pulled on his bulky hard diving suit. Cleve wasn't very big, and he put on his suit without much difficulty. Alford helped him onto the fantail and put on his helmet. The umbilical cable, fastened to the PT boat, provided him with oxygen. Ruffy tied a ladder to one of the cleats on the fantail, and Cleve descended down the ladder into the cool, rough water below.

_**Linwood, Utah, April 20, 140,001,943 B.C.**_

_**The Mysterious Beyond**_

It was almost dusk when Ichy woke up. The fog was gone, and in its place were dozens of fish that have appeared along with the _PT-147. _The bellydragger was gone, and in its place stood a strange angular piece of green wood, the _PT-147_. For a fleeting second, Ichy believed that he was dead. Such a twist of fortune was hardly believable, but the pain in his wings and stomach reminded him otherwise. _So, I'm still alive,_ Ichy thought, _I didn't chock to death on some green fog, and I shall not die from hunger_._ I have all this food in front of me. _

Ichy took no notice of the strange, angular piece of wood that appeared before him; he was too hungry to care. He walked to a small finned swimmer with glistening scales. It looked just like the one he envisioned earlier. He scooped it up in his mouth and swallowed it whole. He immediately felt the pain in his gut alleviate. He moved closer to the boat and ate another one. He was already feeling full. Flyers couldn't eat too much at once, because they need to keep their weight down in order to fly. But they had to eat constantly.

Ichy was about to eat a third one when he noticed something. He noticed a glare to his right. Curious, he slowly walked up to it. There were two small black tubes joined together by a thin ribbon of rock. The tubes were covered on both sides by a frozen-water-like material. Ichy knew that the weather was too warm for frozen water to form. He put his good wing against the material and felt its temperature. It did not seem cold. Ichy put his eye up to the new material. All of a sudden, he could see the trees in the mountains in the distance. Ichy blinked, but he could still see the trees. He pushed one tip of the object to the left. His view shifted to a waterfall in the distance. The view was so clear that he could see the leaves of the trees near the waterfall. _This is truly amazing, _Ichy thought, _I wonder if I can use this thing in the air._ Cleve's binoculars found a new owner.

_**The Florida Strait, November 12, 1943 A.D.**_

_**US Navy Motor Torpedo Boat PT-148, Elco 80' PT boat**_

It was dark underwater. Cleve knew that about only 20% of the light at the surface manage to reach 40 feet underwater, and there wasn't much sunlight to begin with. Cleve walked along the bottom of the sea, looking for the wreckage of the PT boat. The waves and currents were a lot softer underwater, and the radiation was probably a lot lower too. But Cleve was still worried, because there were lemon sharks in the region, and they attacked people. Cleve had to act fast to prevent attacks.

He explored the region, but he found nothing but fish, water, and sand. There was absolutely no trace of any wreckage. Because Cleve got his air supply from his umbilical cord, which was connected to the _PT-148_, Cleve could stay down for an indefinite amount of time. But Cleve knew that it was pointless. He walked back towards the _PT-148_. Cleve climbed up the ladder and onto the boat. Alford and Ruffy helped him take off his helmet.

"So, did you find anything?" Ruffy asked.

"Nothing," Cleve replied, "There was absolutely no wreckage." Ruffy did not look surprised. They both knew that the PT boat didn't sink. It simply vanished.

"Alright then, we'll just have to call it a day," Ruffy said, "Alford, man the helm. Take us home. Cleve, you can rest inside for the trip home. You've done enough work today."

"What should we tell the rest of the crew about the _PT-147?" _Cleve asked, "Should we keep it a secret?"

"Tell them that you found a big hole in the side of the _PT-147_," Ruffy responded, "Cleve, Alford, you are not to discuss this experiment outside this boat or the base. Do not mention this to any civilian personnel or military personnel unknown to you. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir!" Cleve and Alford both responded. Cleve heard that Alford was trustworthy. He would keep his word. Cleve didn't mind holding a secret, and he had no intension of telling others. He had other things to worry about.

Cleve took off his suit and descended down a hatch into the charthouse. He folded his suit and stuffed it into a locker. He tried sleeping on his bunk, but the sea was too rough and the engines were too loud. He went to the cabin and played blackjack with the crews of the _PT-148_ and the _Eldridge. _They all watched the experiment and saw the explosion, but Ruffy ushered them in after the explosion. They still probably knew what happened by watching from the windows, but they certainly wanted to know more.

Cleve grabbed a quarter from his locker and tossed it onto the table. A crewman from the _Eldridge_ dealt Cleve the cards. "So, the _PT-147_ was missing huh?" he asked.

Cleve shook his head. "It ended up on the bottom of the ocean floor," Cleve said, trying to sound genuine, "I went down there and saw a huge hole in her side. I reckon that it's possible to raise her, but a PT boat isn't worth much."

"That's unfortunate," the man replied, "The _Eldridge _looks pretty banged-up. It'll take a week for two for her to get repaired."

Cleve nodded but said nothing. He concentrated on the game. _I can't afford to lose today_, Cleve thought, _I need to buy myself another pair of binoculars when I get back on shore._

_**Linwood, Utah, April 20, 140,001,943 B.C.**_

_**The Mysterious Beyond**_

Ichy looked for a way to secure the binoculars to him, but he didn't have to look farther than the binoculars themselves. There was a strap on the binoculars designed to be strapped onto the human wrist. But what was fit for the human wrist was also fit for an ichthyornis. Ichy slid his neck under Ichy's wing was feeling better now, so he tried to fly again. The binoculars were surprisingly light. Cleve's binoculars were made out of aluminum, and the glass was thin. In total, the binoculars weighted less than three pounds. Ichy leaped into air. The binoculars swung from side to side, and Ichy almost lost balance on several occasions. But the binoculars were light, and some practice should make perfect. He carefully landed on the top of the rock formation in front of him, slowly proceeding as to prevent damaging the binoculars. He held them up to his eyes. He could see even further now. He turned in the direction of the Land of Mists, and he could see the leaves on the trees. _This thing is truly amazing_, Ichy thought_, I need to tell Dil_. Without hesitation, Ichy lifted off into the air, grabbed a fish for Dil, and headed back to the Land of Mists.

And just like that, the _PT-147_ was forgotten. It was written off the Navy records as having been grounded and scuttled in New Guinea. The _PT-148_ would serve at the Pacific Front under the nickname _Fertile Myrtle_ until the end of the war. The _Eldridge _was quickly repaired and put back into service. It would be later sold to Greece as the HS _Leon_ and would serve until 1999. No one from the experiment leaked any information, and it remains a secret to this day. After the failed experiment, the Navy canceled the entire project. The tide of war was turning, and there was no need for dangerous and unreliable "super-weapons" like invisible ships. The Navy, initially, believed that there would be no permanent effects, but Einstein correctly believed otherwise. The magnetic field did not dissipate with the explosion. Instead, it lingered on, causing strange anomalies in a region known today as the Bermuda Triangle. What's more, according to Einstein, the magnetic field can be reactivated by both human intervention and natural causes like lightning. This effect would be responsible for the disappearances of many ships and planes such as Flight 19, which will be covered in the next chapter.


	4. The Firsts

**Chapter 3: The Firsts**

"_**The voyage of discovery is not in seeking new landscapes but in having new eyes." ~**_**Marcel Proust**

_**Fort Lauderdale, Florida, December 5, 1945 A.D.**_

_**Naval Air Station Fort Lauderdale **_

"Cleve, you'd better come up to the control tower!" a loud voice shouted, "Flight 19 is in trouble."

Cleve turned away from the coffee machine and slowly walked up the stairs leading to the control tower, careful not to spill his coffee on his new tie. After the war ended, Cleve found a job as a radioman at Fort Lauderdale. It was his job to guide TBM Avengers flying training missions into and out of the airbase. It was a boring task involving hours of sitting in front of a radar and microphone, and it did not provide the adrenaline rush of dodging shells from Japanese destroyers. But at least he only had to worry about getting fired, not fired upon.

"What is it this time, Alford?" Cleve asked plainly, leaning over the controls to get a better look at the radar, "Engine trouble or radio failure?" By coincidence, his long-time companion on the _PT-148_, Alford, also took a job as radioman at the airbase. This did not come as a complete surprise to Cleve. The two had both moved to southern Florida, and both had plenty of experience with radio equipment. The two became good friends and co-workers.

"No, they're lost," Alford responded with calmly, "I don't understand how they're lost in such fine weather."

Cleve looked outside the window of the control tower and raised an eyebrow. The weather looked perfectly normal. Hurricanes weren't common in December. There were a few cumulus clouds, but the majority of the sky was clear. The weather report said that the weather was favorable. Everything was normal except that one of the planes carried only two men instead of its usual three. He hadn't been replaced, but the Avenger was fully capable of flying with two men. Each of the planes carried enough fuel to fly for 1000 miles. The planes had started taking off at 2:00 p.m. and were flying in perfect formation across the Atlantic just a few minutes later.

"Pilots these days," Cleve mumbled, "They can't even find their way back to base on a fine day like this." Cleve put on the pair of headsets in front of him. Immediately, a loud voice filled his ears.

"Fort Lauderdale, this is an emergency. We seem to be off course. We seem to be lost. We can't make out where we are." Cleve flinched at the loud voice and quickly lowered the volume. The voice was of none other than Charles Taylor. Cleve saw him at base before. He was a flying instructor who had just arrived two weeks earlier. They drank together once, on the trivial account that both of them were lieutenants and Avenger pilots. _I heard that he was a good pilot_, Cleve thought,_ I heard that he has 2500 hours. How did he get lost on such a fine day like this?_

"Head due west," Cleve replied emphatically. It seemed rather obvious. Flight 19, a training flight off of the east coast of Florida, could simply reach land by flying west. Still, it was the best information that Cleve could offer.

"Both my compasses out," Taylor said, "and I'm trying to find Fort Lauderdale, Florida. I'm over land, but it's broken. I'm sure I'm over the Keys, but I don't know how far down, and I don't know how to get back to Fort Lauderdale."

Cleve started to worry. It was almost unheard of for both compasses to go out. The magnetic compass went out whenever there is a storm. The gyrocompass was more reliable, but it still malfunctioned every now and then. But both compasses to go out simultaneously? That was unusual.

"Put the sun on your port wing if you're in the Keys and fly up the coast until you get to Miami. Fort Lauderdale is 20 miles further, your first port after Miami," Cleve responded with confusion. Cleve turned to Alford with a look of concern. "What are they doing in the Florida Keys?" Cleve turned to Alford and said, "I thought they were supposed to be near the Bahamas."

"They are," Alford replied, pointing to a map of Florida and the surrounding ocean, "They were suppose to fly 56 miles east to Hens and Chicken Shoals in the Bahamas and conduct bombing practice." Alford used his finger to draw an invisible line on the training map.

"Just barely north of the place where we conducted the experiment," Cleve whispered. No one else was in the control tower, but speaking in a lower voice didn't hurt.

"Yes," Alford responded, not wishing to get off topic, "After that, they were supposed to fly north for 73 miles and fly back."

"How'd they end up in the Florida Keys then?" Cleve asked, "The Florida Keys is nowhere near their planned course."

"I was wondering the same thing. The wind isn't blowing in that direction either. It's blowing east at 30 knots. Taylor must have messed up somewhere."

Cleve rolled his eyes. Then, suddenly, Taylor's voice came blasting out of the headset.

"We can't find the sun. Everything is wrong," Taylor replied, "We can't be sure of any direction. Everything looks strange, even the ocean." Cleve could detect the fear and uncertainty in Taylor's voice, but he could not comprehend it. The weather outside was perfectly fine. There was nothing strange. It was a typical sunny Florida Day.

"Turn on your IFF," Cleve demanded, "and switch to the emergency radio frequency on 3000 kilocycles." Cleve knew the standard procedures for pilots caught in such a position; he himself became a certified pilot. After the whole deal with Project Rainbow, Cleve chose to become a naval aviator and flew TBM Avengers onboard the USS Monterey during the closing months of the war. Taylor was ignoring all of the standard procedures that were drummed into students during classroom lectures throughout the course. In case of disorientation, a pilot was supposed to turn on the IFF, climb for altitude, and try to pick up the homing transmitter from the air station. IFF stood for "Identification Friend or Foe". If the IFF was on, Cleve would be able to identify Flight 19's location. He would also tune to 3,000 kilocycles emergency frequency for clearer transmissions. If he was over water he was supposed to fly toward the west; if he was over land, he was to fly east. It seemed simple enough.

After a brief moment of silence, Cleve heard Taylor's muffled reply, "I cannot switch frequencies. I have to keep my planes intact."

This was an illogical excuse. Each of the TBMs could have switched to the emergency frequency, which was free of static and other interference. Communications on 3,000 kilocycles were clear and static-free, while signals on 4,805 kilocycles, Taylor's current frequency, were weak and garbled.

By six in the afternoon, Taylor and his five Avengers were completely disorientated and confused, flying and changing course arbitrarily. The communications equipment onboard the Avengers began to fail, unable to receive any of Cleve's messages. However, the control tower could still receive transmissions between the five planes. Their crews seemed on the verge of panic. They talked about malfunctioning compasses, hundred-mile-an-hour winds, and procedures for ditching the aircraft. They seemed to be under some mysterious cloak of confusion; no one knew what to do.

Meanwhile, in the Fort Lauderdale control tower, the mood was one of icy foreboding. More workers and officers have arrived on the scene, but even the most experienced officers did not know what to do. Some were trying to trace Flight 19's path on a nearby map. Others were calling for help from nearby ships and airbases. Someone, using data from other control towers, managed to triangulate the position of Flight 19 and calculated it to be 20 minutes east of New Smyrna Beach, Florida. By then communications were so poor that this information could not be passed to the lost planes.

The last transmission from Flight 19 was received at around seven. The voice was desperate but still barely distinguishable. "We are completely lost," said Taylor. "It looks like we are entering white…"

Eventually, the voices of Taylor and his crew became undistinguishable amongst buzzing static and the sound of faint brassy jazz from Cuban radio stations. By 7:04 p.m., all contact had been lost. An eerie static covered the radio frequency.

Cleve looked at the pale, nervous faces in the room. For a moment, the tower was as silent as a church. Commander Kingston, Cleve's boss, eventually broke the silence. "Alford, Cleve," Kingston ordered, "get on the other telephone and call the nearest airfields. Contact all the rescue teams. Let's find those men."

Grabbing the telephone with one hand and dialing the number with the other. Cleve rapidly dialed the number of Air Sea Rescue Task Unit 4 at Port Everglades.

"Air Sea Rescue Task Unit 4?" Cleve asked, "This is Naval Air Station Fort Lauderdale. We have a flight of five TBM Avengers missing. They're on 4805 kilocycles. They're Flight 19; Fox . How much fuel do they have left? Let's see..." Cleve took a look at his watch. It was almost 5 p.m. "They have enough fuel to last until 8 p.m.. We only have three hours left."

_**Satellite Beach, Florida, December 5, 1945 A.D.**_

_**Naval Air Station Banana River **_

Meanwhile, more than 150 miles north of Naval Air Station Fort Lauderdale, Fred Ruffy and his colleges were enjoying their coffee break. At the time, the base was just a small, tranquil base used largely for search-and-rescue missions, and discipline was slack. Perhaps ironically, this small base would eventually become one of the most important military bases in the free world—Patrick Air Force Base. It was here where the United States tested its first satellite launch rocket, and it was here where the astronauts of Apollo 11 blasted off and landed on the moon. The base, even today, is still the forefront of space exploration.

However, space flight, in 1945, was still a distant dream; most Americans were still busy celebrating the end of World War II. Loud music was playing in the control tower. There was a slight drizzle outside, but the sound of the raindrops was crushed by the sound of the music. Life after the war has been a blast for Ruffy. He has been reunited with his family and is living a peaceful life in Central Florida. He still had to go to work, of course, but it was sure better than getting strafed by A6M Zeros.

The ringing of the phone in the tower suddenly pierced the sound of the jazz music. Ruffy quickly stopped the record player and reached to answer the phone.

"This is Naval Air Station Banana River. Is there…"

"This is Naval Air Station Fort Lauderdale," a familiar voice disrupted, "We have five TBM Avengers missing over the Atlantic. Scramble a search plane. We've triangulated their position to be within a one hundred mile radius of 29 degrees, 15 minutes north, 79 degrees, 1 minute west. Scramble something immediately."

"Is this a drill?" Ruffy asked, jotting down the coordinates on a piece of paper, "And did you cause this, Cleve?" He said that last part with a smirk.

"Ruffy?" Cleve asked with surprise. "It's you? I'm sorry that we have to meet over a crisis like this one. And no, this is not a drill."

"Alright then," Ruffy replied. He looked around his desk and grabbed a nearby chart. "We have one Catalina and two Mariners on training missions in the area. I'll divert them immediately and send up a few more birds. We'll call back if the pilots report anything."

"We need to act fast. They only have fuel for three more hours. Avengers don't ditch well in water." Cleve recalled his experience with the Avenger. The top canopy of the plane had a big metal bar running along it. It was a terrible design flaw. It hampered visibility and made it very difficult to bail out. When exiting or ditching the aircraft, it was very easy for loose clothing or parachute wires to get caught on the bar. In training operations, it was merely an annoyance, but in emergencies, it could mean the difference between life and death.

"I'll relay the information to the pilots," Ruffy replied, "Please tell us if you get any new information."

"Thank you so much, Ruffy," Cleve replied, with a hint of relief in his voice, "You've never let me down."

"And I won't start now. Good luck!" Ruffy hung up the phone.

Ruffy was confident about keeping his promise. The base had seen stuff like this before; novice pilots getting lost in fog was nothing uncommon. The Navy had foreseen such situations and equipped the airbase with many veteran squadrons of PBY Catalinas and PBM Mariners. Both types of aircraft were flying boats that have proved their worth during the war, and all the aircraft were manned by experienced crews. Cleve's pilots were in good hands.

Five minutes later, at 7:27 p.m., PBM-5 BuNo 59225, a Martin PBM Mariner flying boat, took off into the dusk sky. Its last radio transmission was received at 7:30 p.m.. All radar contact with the plane was lost shortly after. It was never heard from ever again…

_**Vernal, Utah, April 3, 65,900,501,944 B.C.**_

_**The Great Valley**_

It was almost midnight in the Great Valley. Arcs of lightning flashed across the dark might sky as rain started to pour down. The residents of the Great Valley were all at their nesting place. Some ran to the caves for cover in the caves, but others, including all the longnecks, chose to stand their ground. The big trees above them offered great protection from the pouring rain. The days of rising waters has hit its climax. Littlefoot was the first one to be woken by the sound of the lightning. He was followed by his grandpa and grandma.

"That skywater is coming down hard. When will it to stop?" asked Littlefoot, who turned to his grandparents for an answer.

"I don't know, Littlefoot," Grandpa Longneck replied in his usual voice. "It has been a long time since we had skywater like this."

"And I hope your friends are okay," Grandma Longneck added. "You know what happened the last few times."

Littlefoot gulped as he remembered the last few times the Great Valley encountered heavy skywater. One time, it caused severe flooding in the Valley and led to his encounter with his mud brother Mo. It was an exciting adventure, but many other floods didn't turn out so well. Not long ago, the cave that Ruby and Chomper inhabited flooded, and they had to find a new cave. Even more recently, when skywater led to running mud that destroyed Petrie's nest, Petrie almost had to move away. For Littlefoot, heavy skywater was a bad omen, and it was only made worse by the continuous flashes of sky fire.

"I hope so too," replied Littlefoot, before going back to sleep. He really hoped that the skywater won't bring bad luck with it this time, but new, friendly visitors, like Mo, were always welcome.

_**Fort Lauderdale, Florida, December 5, 1945 A.D.**_

_**Naval Air Station Fort Lauderdale**_

"Six airplanes lost! Twenty-seven men missing! How does this happen? We're all going to get court-martialed for this…"

Cleve was walking in circles and going on a paranoid rant about the missing airplanes. It was already dark, and a new group of officers had taken over the control tower. Cleve and Alford, though officially off-duty, chose to stay near the runway and wait for news about the missing airmen. There were 14 men onboard the five TBM Avengers and 13 on the PBM Mariner. Within just a few hours, they all disappeared without a trace. Dozens of ships and search and rescue planes were already probing the region, but there were no signs of any aircraft—no floating survivors, no oil slicks, no wreckage, nothing. It seems as if the planes simply vanished into thin air.

"We've already contacted the Air Force and the Coast Guard," Alford said grimly, without even lifting his head, "But it's already night. I know that the planes are equipped with signal flares, but it's still gonna be tough."

Cleve nodded his head in agreement. "Taylor has ditched his plane before, but ditching in the water is never safe. If they got lucky, they might have managed to crash-land on some deserted island, but we've already searched most of the islands."

"Our prayers are with them." Alford replied. Alford's calm demeanor was often a perpetual mystery to Cleve. The two men were exact opposites when it came to neuroticism. As Cleve found out during the war, Alford was often times the better leader during times of crisis, with an unparalleled ability to keep composed under fire. It was a mystery to Cleve why Alford failed to outrank him.

Suddenly, the two men were blinded by a bright light coming from the end of the airfield. Both men turned around and squinted, but neither could make out the outline of the distant object in the darkness. As the light got closer, Cleve recognized the distinctive headlights and grille of a Willys MB jeep. The jeep still had the white army star painted on its hood. It screeched to a halt next to the two men, and a familiar officer stepped out.

"Cleve! Alford! How are you doin'?" Ruffy said with great enthusiasm. "I haven't see you since you in ages." Ruffy gave Cleve a bright smile and a bone-crushing handshake.

"You're a lieutenant now?" Ruffy patted Cleve on the shoulder, "Good for you. I knew the Navy lost a number of good men in the war, but I didn't know that they were this desperate." The joke lightened up the mood and solicited a chuckle from both Alford and Cleve."

"You're not doing badly yourself," Cleve responded, noting the Lieutenant Commander insignia on Ruffy's uniform, "Alford and I were just discussing the missing planes. Isn't that missing PBM Mariner from your airbase?"

Ruffy nodded and then shook his head "Yeah. Thirteen of my good friends. All missing. It's just terrible. We've called every major airbase in the region. Even the British are sending planes from Bermuda."

"We've sent up some of our birds too, but they've had no luck so far. The weather is getting better, and we're hoping that we can find them before midnight. The ocean temperature is in the upper 70s, so hypothermia isn't a big concern. The current, though, is. The Gulf Stream current is very strong. The survivors will have drifted miles apart by dawn."

"But not all of your planes are up, are they?" Ruffy asked in a funny voice. Cleve was puzzled by the question, unsure of Ruffy's intent, but he decided to answer truthfully.

"Not all of them. No. If you want us to send up a few more, I'll gladly ask the Commander Kingston. I'm sure that there are still some pilots on-duty…"

"No need." Ruffy dismissed the notion with a wave of his hand, "What do you say if you fly us up there and start our own search?"

There was a moment of silence. At first, Cleve was a little surprised by the sudden request, but he understood his duty to his friends and comrades.

Alford was the first one to break the silence. "I'm in," he said, in his usual terse manner. He nodded and straightened out his jacket."

"That's the spirit," Ruffy complimented, "But we can't do this without you, Naval Aviator Robert H. Cleve. Are you in?"

Cleve smiled and nodded. "Come on, let's see the base commander. We have 27 men to find."

_**Jensen, Utah, April 3, 65,900,501,944 B.C.**_

_**The Great Valley**_

Here, in the eastern regions of the Valley, the thunderstorm was gaining even more strength. Continuous streaks of lightning struck the head of Saurus Rock, enveloping the entire monolith in a bright glow. The relentless rainfall has caused Green River to rise more than 5 feet, but fortunately, the levees were doing their job and holding the water in place.

Still, two pairs of eyes watched the deteriorating situation with grave concern. From their cave, high up in the mountains, the two dinosaurs were busy observing the rainfall and rising waters.

"That's not what I'm afraid of, Chomper" the pink fast-runner said, "What I'm afraid of is that the rain will cause a mudslide and block the entrance to the cave."

"You've got a point, Ruby," the purple sharptooth replied, "And the rain might also wash away the path we use to get up here."

Ruby nodded, "Getting stuck in a cave is not entirely pleasant," Ruby recalled the incident on her Star Day, "And we can't just fly or glide down like Petrie and Guido."

"What do you suggest then, Ruby?" Chomper inquired. Even though Ruby was one of Chomper's newer friends, she was also Chomper's closest friend. She was a caretaker, an older sister, someone to look up to for advice and wisdom. He had great faith in her judgment.

"We have to get down into the valley before the rain destroys the path. Otherwise, the rain will destroy the path and leave us stranded."

"Maybe we can have a sleepover at Littlefoot's tonight. I'm sure that he'll be more than happy to see us."

"Brilliant idea, Chomper," Ruby patted Chomper on the snout, "But we've got to leave right now. The rain is getting worse."

Chomper nodded. Without saying another word, Chomper followed Ruby out the opening of the cave and down the muddy path leading down into the valley.


	5. The Discovered

**Chapter 4: The Discovered**

**_"_****_Mistakes are the portals of discovery." ~_****James Joyce**

**_West Palm Beach, Florida, December 5, 1945 A.D._**

**_Morrison Army Airfield_**

Under the darkness of night, a silver P-51D Mustang taxied onto the airstrip at Morrison Army Airfield. Sitting at the controls was Captain Frank Steiner, a dashing young pilot and a proud member of the 361st Fighter Group. While in service over Europe with the Eight Air Force, he shot down 17 enemy airplanes and acquired more than 1500 hours under his belt. His accomplishments made him a hero among his colleagues, but he harbored one dark secret—his brother was a Nazi.

No, Frank wasn't a Nazi sympathizer, and he hated Hitler as much as any American. But his brother, Felix Steiner, aligned himself with the fists of fascism. In his early memories, Frank could remember him and Felix in their fun war games. Felix taught Frank how to hunt and shoot their father's Pistole Parabellum, a relic from World War I. When the Spanish Civil War broke out, Felix volunteered to join the Nationalists, claiming that it was the only path to salvation for Spain. After the war, he moved to Germany. In his last letter to Frank and his family, he proudly praised Hitler and informed them of his decision to join Kriegsmarine. Then, the war broke out, and Frank never heard from his brother ever again.

"Good evening, men. This is Colonel Cathcart, your flight operations officer, welcoming you to today's mission," a happy voice called over the radio, "You've all been briefed on the evening's run. There's no sense naming names, since the enemy is probably listening to this transmission."

_There is no enemy_, Frank thought, mentally condemning the corpulent and deluded colonel. Colonel Cathcart deemed Frank a subversive because he wore scarves and used words like panacea and utopia, and because he disapproved of Adolf Hitler, who had done such a great job of combating un-American activities in Germany.

"The weather has improved tremendously over the Gulf. You will have no trouble at all seeing your target. But you mustn't forget, that means that they will have no trouble at all seeing you."

Frank grunted. _As if our own men are gonna shoot me down with a flare gun_, he thought.

"Furthermore, I want to wish you good luck on today's mission. To those of you who won't be coming back, I'd like to say that we will do our best to take care of your wives or sweethearts. And don't forget: General Dreedle wants to a nice, tight search pattern on those aerial photographs. Everyone reach to go?"

The standard procedure for signaling "yes" was a thumbs-up gesture at the control tower. But instead, Frank gave the Colonel the middle finger. It was too dark to tell the difference anyway.

Frank set the flaps and pushed forward the throttle lever. The Packard V-1650 Merlin engine roared into life. Soon, the P-51 was off the ground and climbing into the starry skies above.

**_Jensen, Utah, April 3, 65,900,501,944 B.C._**

**_The Great Valley_**

**"**Psst, Littlefoot," a low voice quietly called out, "Littlefoot, wake up."

Littlefoot groggily opened his eyes and lifted his head. He saw the smiling face of Chomper and the still jovial but more concerned face of Ruby.

Littlefoot stood up and yawned. "Hey guys," Littlefoot greeted them, "What brings you two in here at this late hour?"

"We were hoping to spend the rest of the night here," Ruby explained, "The skywater is falling too hard. We feared that our cave would get washed away, and that brings us here."

"Can you please let us stay, Littlefoot, please?" Chomper tried to put on his best puppy-eyes look.

"Sure guys, you'll be safe and dry here," Littlefoot gestured up at the tree shielding them, "Here's some leaves to make yourselves comfortable. Littlefoot stretched out his neck and grabbed a mouthful of treestars.

"Thanks, Littlefoot," Ruby replied.

"We really owe you one," Chomper added.

"Ro roblem…" Littlefoot tried to stay with a mouthful of treestars, "Shat's what frends are fro."

**_The Florida Strait, December 5, 1945 A.D._**

**_US Navy Torpedo Bomber FT-58, TBM Avenger_**

It had been several hours since Flight 19's last transmission, and still, no one had the slightest information regarding the whereabouts of the 27 missing airmen. Scores of fighters, bombers, seaplanes, and ships crisscrossed the region, but no one reported even an oil slick.

**"**Alford, give me a position update," Cleve spoke into his microphone. The three officers—Cleve, Ruffy, and Alford—were all seated inside a single cramped TBM Avenger. Cleve was in the pilot seat, Ruffy sat in the navigator-radioman position, and Alford took the gunner's seat. The plane had just come back from a training mission earlier in the day and was hastily refueled. It was an older TBM-1C Avenger, with somewhat inferior avionics, range, and speed, but it was the best Cleve could find.

"We're just northwest of the island of Bimini. Actually, we're flying right over _that _place." Ruffy didn't name the place, as the radio was still on, but they all knew the place like the back of their hands.

"It still gives me nightmares," Cleve muttered, remembering Project Rainbow and _PT-148, _"It's so weird."

"What is?" Ruffy asked, briefly turning off the radio, "The radio is now off. No one else can hear us."

"So far, I've been shelled by Japanese cruisers and jumped by A6M Zeros. I've seen friends injured and our own planes going down in flames. But I've never had nightmares about them. Instead, _that_ whole ordeal haunts me the most. I feel that whatever caused _PT-147_ to disappear… it's still out there."

Cleve was right about Project Rainbow. Even though none of the three officers knew it at the time, the magnetic field from the experiment was still active. Einstein theorized that even though the generators and coil were obliterated in the explosion, the magnetic field generated was too powerful to be contained. Under normal atmospheric conditions, the magnetic field spread out and aligned itself with Earth's natural magnetic field. Thus, the presence of the field, on good days, was nearly undetectable. However, when exposed to lightning, Lenz's law can suddenly cause the magnetic field to concentrate and reactivate. The result is the creation of a super-magnetic field that can move independently of Earth's space-time continuum. The Navy suppressed all news of the incident, and almost all files relating to the incident were destroyed. Even Ruffy, one of the senior managers of the experiment, was kept in the dark.

"I know what you mean," Ruffy replied, "Things aren't supposed to just vanish into thin air, and certainly not 51-ton gunboats… But come to think of it, do you find it strange that _PT-147_ and the planes all disappeared in the same general area?"

"And all without a trace," Cleve added, "Not to mention in the same weather conditions. It certainly sounds weird, but it could be all a coincidence."

"Contact!" Alford suddenly yelled through the intercom, "Contact! Four o'clock high. Single plane approaching from the port side."

"Roger that. Turning on the radio," Ruffy answered and flipped the radio power switch into the "on" position.

"Should I turn into him, sir?" Cleve asked.

"Negative. Keep flying straight."

Cleve could hear the static in his headset as the radio came into life. A bored American voice could be heard over the airwaves.

"TBF Avenger, do you read me?"

"Loud and clear," Cleve responded, "Please identify yourself."

"This is Captain Frank 'Raptor' Steiner, Morrison Army Airfield. I'm lookin' for some, uh, downed Avengers and Mariners. Have you seen anything?"

"We're also searching, but no luck here either."

"What's your call sign, Avenger?"

"Just FT-58."

"Where are you headed, FT-58?"

"Towards Sandy Point, a bit east of here."

"Mind if I come along for the ride? I'm headed in the same direction. Have to keep talking to stay awake." It was true. Frank had just gotten back from Europe, and the time differences were causing him severe drowsiness. Even back during the war, P-51 pilots often had trouble staying awake on long flights; the Merlin engines' droning had an infamous narcoleptic effect. Pilots usually tried to counteract the sleep spell by taking amphetamines or flying in close formation, but Frank had neither drugs nor wingmen.

"Not at all, Raptor," Ruffy replied, "You're in for a _thrilling_ flight." Cleve, Alford, and Frank chuckled at the sarcasm.

The P-51 Mustang pulled alongside the Avenger, and the two planes pierced through the darkness.

**_Jensen, Utah, April 3, 65,900,501,944 B.C._**

**_The Great Valley_**

The rain had temporarily abated to a drizzle in the valley. Warm, moist air blew in from the north, gently enshrouding the valley in a thin veil of fog. At Littlefoot's nest, the dinosaurs were drifting off into the calm realm of sleep and dreams. It is widely believed in modern science that only mammals are capable of dreaming, but the theory is only partially true. While it is true that no surviving reptiles and amphibians can dream, dinosaurs were a notable exception. Their dreams were filled with vibrant colors and scenes. While different species had different sleep patterns, all were capable of dreaming.

One dinosaur in particular was having a very bad dream. His tail swept hither and yon, and his arms were moving around in rapid, random patterns. He was having a nightmare.

"Pictures come alive with movements free, and roundteeth like fish swim beneath the sea. Information fly at the blink of an eye, and beasts can talk even when out of sight." An old pterodactyl resembling the Hermit at Black Rock was whispering prophecies into Chomper's ear. He spread his wings, and his eyes began turning blood red. "You can outstrip the flyers in the sky, but metallic flying craft will scour the night. Strange strangers will promise you joy, but they lie, for this world, drenched in blood, shall die." Upon finishing the last line, the pterodactyl kicked Chomper in the stomach. Chomper stumbled backwards and fell off a high cliff into the dark abyss below.

"No, no. Say it not so!" He screamed as he fell. "Ruby! Littlefoot! Help me! Somebody, help me!"

As Chomper fell, he noticed a flying light coming straight at him. As it got closer, Chomper noticed that it was unlike anything he has ever seen. It had wings like a flyer, but it didn't flap his wings. Instead of a beak, it had spinning locks of black vines. It had no eyes and no mouth, but it made a sound like a million bees passing by.

"Help, help!" Chomper screamed. The mysterious flyer got closer. Deep into that darkness peering, Chomper fell—wondering, fearing, doubting. Chomper fell down on the left wing of the flyer with a loud, metallic cling. The skin of the flying beast wasn't soft; it was as hard as rock. He tried digging his claws into the blue skin of the beast to get a grip, but the skin was too hard even for his claw to penetrate. The beast dipped the wing and entered a left turn. The wind swept him off his feet. He fell and began sliding off.

"Help! Help!" Chomper desperately cried out. He claws searched for something to hold onto, but they helplessly ricocheted off the hardened skin of the beast. The last thing he was the pulsating red light at the tip of the wing.

**_The Florida Strait, December 5, 1945 A.D._**

**_US Navy Torpedo Bomber FT-58, TBM Avenger_**

"'So what do you plan on calling your book?' I asked this Vonnegut guy. He thought about it and said, "'I tell you what, I'll call it 'The Children's Crusade.''" Frank was retelling his encounter with Private Kurt Vonnegut, a chaplain's assistant who looked like a filthy flamingo. The two met on a train hauling American GIs out of Europe, and Vonnegut was eager to tell Frank his story.

Cleve laughed a little. The conversation was going great, and the laughter helped lighten the mood. "It sounds like an amazing book, but I feel 'Slaughterhouse-Five' sounds more catchy."

"I'd love to meet him in person," Ruffy said, "I'm amazed that he survived the Dresden Bombing. In a slaughterhouse no less. Cleve's right about the title though; it does sound more descriptive and even contains a dash of irony."

"Cool story, bro," Alford replied sincerely, in his usual curt manner.

"I want an autographed copy. I have a feeling that it'll be an instant classic," Cleve added.

"He said that he was going to go back to Ilium, New York to resume his optometry studies," Frank replied, "That's where we're most likely to meet him."

"Eeyup," Alford said. Alford was being campy again. Laughter filled the airwaves.

Cleve shifted his gaze from the P-51 next to him and checked his instruments. All the displays on the center panel were holding steady. That was a good sign. But Cleve frowned as he checked the right panel.

"Uh, Ruffy," Cleve said over the intercom, "We seem to be having a problem with turn-and-bank indicator." Even though the plane was holding steady, the turn-and-bank indicator was swinging back and forth like a pendulum of a clock. The indicator was not a crucial instrument; it was more for precision air show formation flying and bombing than for everyday navigating. Cleve could easily fly without it, but it was still a point of concern.

"Do you want to head back?" Ruffy asked.

"We can still fly safely, but we should still inform the base."

"Roger that. I'll contact Fort Lauderdale." Ruffy tuned the radio onto the airbase frequency. "Naval Station Fort Lauderdale, this is FT-58. We're having problems with one of our instruments. Do you copy, Fort Lauderdale?"

There was only an eerie static. The silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token. And the only words there spoken were the shouted words, "Fort Lauderdale!"

"Fort Lauderdale, do you copy? Fort Lauderdale?! FORT LAUDERDALE!" Ruffy was practically screaming into the microphone, but it was no use. Ruffy then tuned to the emergency frequency at 3000 kilocycles and shouted "Mayday!" into the microphone. No one seemed to hear him. The static only grew louder.

Ruffy tuned the radio back to the P-51's frequency. "Raptor, can you contact Fort Lauderdale at 3000 kilocycles? Tell them we're having instrument troubles."

"Me too," Frank's panicked voice came over the radio, "My altimeter and speed indicator are completely kaput. Both my compasses are spinning in circles! My radio's stuck at this frequency. What the hell is going on?"

"Cleve, this is too dangerous," Ruffy commanded, "We have to turn back."

"Roger that. Turning back to zero-niner…" Cleve tried yanking the control stick, only to freeze in terror.

"Ruffy… Raptor?" Cleve said in an intimidated voice.

"Spit it out, Cleve."

"Our compasses… they've gone cuckoo too!" Both the magnetic and gyroscopic compasses started spinning in circles.

"Don't worry. We can try visual navigation."

"Too late! Look!" Just as Cleve finished the sentence, a stygian grayish-green fog enveloped the airplane. Visibility suddenly dropped from excellent to poor. Even the P-51 just a few yards away became barely visible.

Cleve was truly worried now. Even if he did manage to contact an airbase, he would have no idea how to get there. Without his compasses or any visual cues, he had absolutely way to determine his location.

"FT-58! What the heck is going on?! I can't see!" Frank's voice came over the radio. The static grew louder, and the voice became disjointed.

"I don't know! Our compasses are spinning in circles. We can't see either."

"We're bloody jinxed!" Alford shouted from the back of the airplane. Sudden gusts of wind shook both planes. One large gust almost turned Frank's P-51 on its side. Both pilots recovered, but both lost their sense of bearing.

Ruffy was the only one still thinking clearly. "Cleve, Raptor, climb to 5000 feet. Maybe we can climb out of this fog."

"Alright, Raptor, here we go," Cleve said, gently pulling back the control stick, "Follow my lead."

Both planes climbed to 5000 feet. Then 10000. The old Avenger refused to climb higher. Frank's P-51 managed to climb all the way up to 30,000 feet, but the fog followed the planes wherever they went. To save fuel, both planes went back down to 5,000. The fog around the aircraft dissipated slightly, but it still firmly blocked out the stars and ocean. Cleve still couldn't see any visual cues to guide him. The stubborn instruments still refused to function properly.

In the meantime, Ruffy kept switching frequencies and sending mayday messages. Methodically working his way upwards, Ruffy reached 4805 kilocycles. "Mayday! Mayday! Mayday! This is FT-58. Does anyone read me?"

Much to Ruffy's surprise, someone finally responded to his mayday call. "Aircraft calling mayday, identify yourself," the voice had a familiar ring to it. A very familiar ring.

"Taylor!" Cleve and Ruffy cried out simultaneously, "Taylor! This is FT-58. We've spent hours looking for you. You're still alive! How are the others?"

"We seem to be off course. We seem to be lost. We can't make out where we are."

"Is everyone alright?" Ruffy asked. The three officers all mistakenly believed that Flight 19 had crash-landed on some deserted island and that Taylor was using from a radio salvaged in the wreckage.

"Nobody's compass is working. We're all lost, and we're critically low on fuel."

Cleve, Ruffy, and Alford looked at each other in bewilderment. "How are they still airborne?" Ruffy asked over the intercom, "Their fuel supply was supposed to have run out 3 hours ago."

Cleve checked his wristwatch. It was 23:11. Flight 19 only had enough fuel to last until 20:00. Sure, it was possible for a plane to fly 5 or 10 minutes longer than its fuel supplies allowed, but flying more than 3 hours on empty? That was impossible.

"How are you guys still airborne?" Ruffy asked, "You were supposed to have run out of fuel 3 hours ago."

"Our fuel supply will run out at 20:00. We only have fuel for 20 more minutes. Help us!"

"It's 23:11—more than three hours past 20:00."

There was a slight pause on the other end. Taylor went to synchronize his wristwatch with Devlin and Parpart.

"Our wristwatches all say it's 19:40. We only have fuel for 20 more minutes. Please help! My engine is already sputtering."

"Please help us!" Thompson, a Flight 19 pilot, cried out.

Cleve, Ruffy, and Alford decided to put away their curiosity and get back to the task at hand. Cleve looked around and saw a flight of five TBM Avengers crossing in front of him. "I can see them now," Cleve said, pointing to the planes at one o'clock low. He shook the wings, pulled back the throttle, and pushed the stick forward. The Avenger drifted downwards. Frank's P-51, still stuck on another frequency, followed.

"We're lost too," Ruffy said, "Our instruments are also malfunctioning. We can't find land."

"What about that P-51. Are his instruments working?" Taylor asked.

"No, and his radio is stuck at 4400 kilocycles."

"So no one knows how to get back?"

"No one knows."

The seven planes joined together in one formation. Frank's radio frequency was still stuck, and Ruffy had to constantly switch frequencies to maintain communications.

"Flight 19, when the first man gets down to his last ten gallons of gas, we all ditch in the water together," Taylor explained to his students, "FT - 58, P-51, you two circle us and radio for help. Drop some flares and first-aid kits. We're going to need it."

"Sorry we failed you, Taylor," Ruffy explained apologetically, "We were sent here to rescue you, but we ended up getting lost too."

"It's not your fault," Taylor assured him, "A good leader takes the credit when things are good and the blame when things are bad. I shall—wait a second. What the hell is that in front of us?"

Cleve looked forward. A large cloud of stygian grayish-green fog suddenly formed in front of the flight. It looked like a giant thunderhead cloud, but much larger and slightly green in color. Flashes of blinding lightning reached out from the cloud's core. It seemed to be moving too—rapidly advancing towards the formation.

Without warning, one lightning bolt caught FT-81 in the right wing, igniting the gasoline vapors in the fuel tank. The fuel tank exploded, and the wing snapped in half. The wing tip flew backwards, barely missing another plane, and plummeted into the ocean. Pilot Forrest Gerber tried desperately to bank the plane steady, but it was all in vain. The Avenger rolled onto its right side and entered a spiraling descent. A terrified scream could be heard on the radio. Cleve watched, mortified, as the crippled Avenger hit the water and disintegrated in a plume of water.

"Gerber! Lightfoot! Nooo!" A voice screamed.

"Everyone, break away!" Taylor ordered. Cleve threw the control stick to the left, but it was too late. The cloud quickly enveloped the five remaining Avengers.

Frank, an alert fighter pilot, did a split-s and actually managed to turn his plane around, but even his Merlin engine was no match for the fast winds. Like a tornado, the giant cloud sucked in enormous quantities of air. The plane struggled to escape, but it could not break free of the wind. It flew backwards into the grips of the mysterious cloud.

The clumsy Avengers never had a chance. The fog was blinding. Cleve couldn't even see his own wings. The electronics went completely haywire. Instrument lights flicked on and off. The radio spewed out sparks and obscenely loud static. Cleve covered his ears. The compasses spun like the blades of a helicopter. The turbulent air shook the plane like ragdoll. A crosswind flipped the airplane on its back. Then, the winds changed direction and sent the six-ton aircraft flying backwards. Then, the plane was caught in a violent updraft. The crewmen started to black out from the rapid ascension. The last thing Cleve saw before passing out was a blinding flash of light enveloping his aircraft.


End file.
